Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part Two]

CHAPTER 213: Violence & Political Nuances

Grand Chancellor Cassius knelt quietly beside the king's bed, his eyes stirring with a sea of emotions as they lingered on the monarch's pallid face.

For a long moment, he remained there in silence, his thoughts unreadable. Finally, he rose to his feet, his expression composed once more, and turned his gaze toward the elderly man standing a few steps away.

"Thank you for your hard work, Doctor," he said, his tone carrying a faint air of finality. "Please continue to care for the king—your expertise is a rare beacon of hope in times as grim as these."

The doctor bowed respectfully, his nerves barely hidden. "You honor me, Your Excellency. I will do all in my power to ensure His Majesty's recovery."

With a slight inclination of his head and a flick of his cape, the chancellor turned on his heel and left. The knight commander fell into step behind him, silent and dutiful.

Unbeknownst to them, a court official lingered behind the corner of the corridor, eyes narrowed as he discreetly observed their departure.

Back inside the chamber, the royal physician was in the midst of checking the king's vitals with a magic tool when the door creaked open.

He barely had time to react before the familiar weight of a shadow loomed over him. His head snapped up, eyes widening as a cold sweat broke across his brow.

"L-Lord Vaerythos," he stammered, his voice trembling.

The tall man, broad-shouldered and imposing, had the entirety of his gaze fixed on the king's frail form. After a long moment observing the monarch—whose condition had noticeably improved—he slowly turned his cold, dissatisfied eyes onto the quivering doctor.

The healer's panic was immediate, hands flailing defensively. "I—I increased the dosage as instructed," he sputtered, his gaze dropping fearfully. "But somehow... despite that, the king appears to be building immunity. It's as if... as if he's healing himself."

Without warning, Vaerythos's heavy backhand sent the elder sprawling across the floor, his glasses skittering out of reach.

"And you expect me to believe that nonsense?" Vaerythos snarled venomously, a vein pulsing in his temple as he loomed closer, his shadow swallowing the man like a predator circling wounded prey. "Do I need to spell it out for you to understand?" he scoffed coldly. "A brilliant man such as yourself?"

Terrified, the elder let out a yelp, scrambling backward until his spine pressed against the cold, unyielding wall. But there was no escape—

WHAM!

The brutal truth of that was carved into his flesh with the first devastating blow, rattling his skull like a death knell.

Vaerythos reared back, his fury boiling over as another iron-clad fist shot forward.

"It doesn't take—"

CRACK!

"—a genius—"

THUD!

"—to figure out—"

SMASH! SMASH!

Blood splattered across the king's face.

"—that we're trying to—"

SPLURCH!

"—get rid of this... pathetic excuse for a monarch."

The room reverberated with the sickening sound of breaking bones, tearing flesh, and muffled gurgles of agony.

When Vaerythos finally stepped back, his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. He gazed down at the aftermath of his wrath, his knuckles dripping with crimson, his handiwork a grotesque testament to his unbridled rage.